No
by nowordswriter
Summary: Tsar Lunanoff, the Man in the Moon, alerts E. Aster Bunnymund, the last Pooka, of an exceedingly rare chance to sire a kit. It is an opportunity that appears only once and once alone. Bunny turns it down. (2nd POV)


It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, he says. It might never happen again, he says. It's the only chance you'll get, he says.

You bow your head and whisper, "No."

Before your friends can even breathe a word, you open up a tunnel and let the earth swallow you whole. You are the Guardian of Hope, yes. You believe in happy endings, more than anybody else. You hang on when everyone else lets go, that's what you do. Yes.

But.

Above all, you are an agent of Life. To that fickle and furious element, you kneel and serve. Not to Tsar Lunanoff, not to Lady Pitchiner, but to the flinty spark that burrows down into the shores and seas, welding together the haphazard slurry of molecules, birthing nuclei and DNA. It is to that element, and to that element alone, you serve above all else. You are an incarnate of Life before you are Guardian of Hope. And sometimes, Life simply takes precedent over nursing any scraps and bits of Hope. Even if it's yours.

Jack finds you. Jack always finds you. The bludger has an uncanny knowledge of your favorite haunts and hiding places. He lands lightly, softly, ever the fragile snowflake he pretends he isn't. He keeps silent. He's wary, you think. You can practically hear the tension seizing his muscles. There are a thousand unspoken words seeding the air, half of them furious, the other half confused. You just turned down a ridiculously opportunistic offer. You are prepared for ranting and raving.

But the boy is a boy. For all his 300 years, Jack is still so painfully young. There is so much he wants to say but just can't. He just doesn't know how to. And all the silent words boil down to just one.

"Why?" Jack gasps out loud.

You don't turn to look at him, simply beckoning him to come closer. He takes to your side, his arm pressing against yours. His graveyard chill soothes the frenzied heat trapped in your fur. You close your eyes and sigh.

"It ain't right, Jackie."

"What do you mean?"

"It wasn't going to revive the Pooka race. It was just gonna give me a family."

"You make that sound like it's a bad thing."

You open your eyes. "Because it is."

At your reply, Jack seems to reach some unseen threshold and leaps to the air. The temperature sinks as he quivers with barely witheld anger.

"How? How is happiness a bad thing? Why are you doing this, Aster? What are you afraid of? I thought you were the Guardian of Hope! Why aren't you taking this chance to be happy? Why aren't you taking a leap of faith? Isn't that what you're all about?! Hope?!"

"Jack, mate, listen."

"No, you listen! I'm not about to sit back and watch you sabotage your once in a lifetime chance to get what you've always wanted. You want a family, don't you? You want a kit to call your own. You want your burrow filled with the pitter patter of little feet. I know you! You want this! Why won't you let yourself be happy?!"

"Because this isn't about me!" You roar.

That stops him. You hear his breath catch in his throat. The echoes of your voice sits coarse and heavy in the unfurling silence.

You swallow. "Jack, come down please."

He hangs frozen in the air for all of a beat, before slipping to the ground. His head bent, with eyes locked on the grass threading through his toes. He doesn't look up. He doesn't look at you.

You shut your eyes, breathing in. You open your eyes, breathing out. Hopping closer, carefully telegraphing all your actions, you reach for him. He doesn't pull back or away. You lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Jack, look at me."

He does. His lips pursed and petulant. He's so angry for you. You smile wryly.

"I'm not immortal, mate." You begin quietly. "If I sire a kit, I'll just be burdening the poor hapless soul with me troubles. Once I leave this plane of existence, that kit will be the last of our kind. And believe me, that is a lonely title to bear. It's hard, bein' the only one o' your kind. I never wanna wish that loneliness on anyone, especially me own."

Jack curls his lips and lowers his gaze again. You slide a paw under his chin and tilt his head up.

"C'mon now, Jackie. Don't be like that. You think if I coulda found a way to repopulate the Pooka race, dependably and regularly, I wouldn' ta done it by now? But Pooka genes don't mix well with other races. The fact of the matter is, only Pooka can produce with other Pooka. Even if Manny's convoluted plan works - that kit would never have a kit. Would you really force that on someone?"

Jack puffs out his cheeks and hisses out a breath. Throwing his arms around you, he hides his face in your grey fur. "I hate it when your sensible."

You card a hand through Jack's hair and chuckles. "The thing about having kids - it's a selfish thing to do. You have kids because you want them. You want someone to raise, someone to nurture, someone to be yours. But Life is not owed to anybody but the person living it. You can't have kids as some sort of cheer up charm - to ease your loneliness and keep you company. Life is not a tool for you to handle as you please. It's a gift, priceless and stringless. That kid belongs to that kid alone. And if you do things right, if you love that kid the way that kid ought to be, maybe, just maybe, that kid will share his life with you.

But you don't have kids for your sake or anybody else's. You bring kids into this world because you love them and you want them to see the wonders of Life, to create beautiful memories, to dream big and bright, to always and forever have fun. Bring kids into this world Jack, because you want them to live and live for their sakes. Don't bring kids into this world for anything else."

Jack looks up at you, reaching up to cradle your face in his hands. He smiles gently. "Aster, you're crying."

"Am I, mate?" You sniff, leaning into his touch. "My bad."

"No, no. You're good." Jack shakes his head, standing on the tips of his toes and pressing his nose against yours. "I got you. I got you."

You suck in a quivering breath and clutch at his wrists. "Don't let go."

"Never."


End file.
